


Mother of New Eden

by MadameBallBuster



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Bunker Ending, F/M, Impregnation, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBallBuster/pseuds/MadameBallBuster
Summary: He is called the Father for a reason.





	Mother of New Eden

**Author's Note:**

> This one is short! That bunker ending man! I kept thinking about the possibility for pregnancy and realized I would never get to it in my other fic Nuclear Genesis. So this is just a time jump!

A cold dread had seated itself in her stomach, like an anchor on the ocean floor.

There was no denying it. The swell of her belly, the mornings- if that’s what they were, time was lost down there- spent curled over the toilet seat and hurling half digested MREs back up into the bowl. 

Something had taken root inside her. Something that would grow and eventually have to come out. 

Pregnant. She was pregnant. 

She thought she’d been safe. The implant in her arm couldn’t have been more than two years old. It was impossible, wasn’t it? Or the chance was nearly non-existent. 

A million to one odds. 

Goddamn it all. 

She was pressed against the bunker wall, hidden away from the all-seeing eyes that waited on the other side of their hole in the ground.

He had to know. Joseph had to have known. He knew everything. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

One time she’d given in. Just once. 

When the ghosts of Hope County wailed in her ears until they drowned out everything else. When John, Jacob, and Faith had stared unblinking from the end of the hall. When all that was, was madness. Madness and static that clouded her eyes with visions until she cried out for Joseph by name. For help, for his mercy. For a quick death. 

Joseph was on her, his half lidded eyes studying her like he was watching a june bug scuttle to turn itself over. 

She couldn’t even remember how it began. 

They were just suddenly touching one another. She was overwhelmed by an unearthly desire, like someone else had slipped inside of her and all that they knew was Joseph, Joseph,  
Joseph.

He could mend the open wound. Stitch her together again. Keep her from spilling until there was nothing left but a hollow vessel.

But deep down, she knew that was exactly what he’d always wanted.

And somehow that didn’t matter when his mouth was between her legs. 

There wasn’t much speaking between them. Just sighs and moans and the occasional “Oh God”. It was only when Joseph pressed into her, when the frame of his slender hips locked into the curve of her and he trembled, that he began a Song of Solomon. 

“This is His will.” He breathed into her neck, his hips rolling in a shaky but steady rhythm. How long had it been for him? “He knew us in the womb. This was fated for us.”

It was then she realized she couldn’t determine if he was doing this out of a sense of holy obligation or because he wanted to. 

But the way his voice shuddered as he slipped further into her warmth, face buried into her neck, she felt it could be said that this wasn’t a burden too difficult for him to bare. 

She just stared up at the concrete ceiling, begging the earth above them to collapse in and crush her, smother her. Death, death, death- it was all she ever caused. It was all she craved. 

Death and one last good fuck.

He stared into her like he always did- blue eyes dark and hollow and knowing. What was he seeing in that moment? What did he ever see when he carved into her like that?

She decided she didn’t care as she grabbed a handful of greying hair and pulled it back to expose his throat. Joseph’s breath became rasping.

It didn’t even cross her mind to make him pull out. The entire encounter was a haze. She just remembered being filled with warmth as he crushed her against him, his ecstasy drowned in the crook of her jaw. Her legs hooked around his hips and pulled him closer, closer. 

 

The memories made her sick to her stomach. 

She couldn’t bring a child into this world. His World. His Child. Dear God, what would he do to it? What if God demanded another sacrifice? Or worse, what if it came up to be a carbon copy of him?

No. No, she couldn’t do this. She’d endured so much- but not this. 

He might’ve been the Father- but he wouldn’t be a real one. 

Not with her.


End file.
